“Emilia,” said my mistress, “we are born of the same mother, we have lived as children, and we have grown up together; never did we have a secret from each other, till this unfortunate mistake occurred.  On my knees, I request you to listen to me, and to believe what I say.”

“Plead your cause with your husband, Teresa; it is more necessary to pacify him than me.”

“I have no husband, Emilia; he is now pleading his own cause with God—­for he has fallen by the sword of yours.”

Donna Emilia started.

“Yes, Emilia, dear, dear sister, it is but too true, and still more true, that you have caused his death.  Do not kill me too, Emilia, by refusing to believe what I declare, as I hope for eternal salvation,—­that I never was aware of the mistake, until the boy discovered it to me, on the ensuing day.  If you knew the shame, the vexation, the fear of discovery which racked my frame, when I was but too sure of it, you would forgive my having tried to hide a fault, the knowledge of which would make others miserable, as well as me.  Say you believe me—­say you forgive me, Emilia.  Oh!  Emilia, cannot you forgive a sister?”

Emilia answered not, and Teresa, clinging to her knees, and embracing them, sobbed hysterically.  At this moment, Don Perez, who had obtained admittance to see his wife, came into the room, and walking up to the part in which the two unfortunate ladies remained in the attitudes described, said,—­“You, Teresa, who have been the original cause of this unhappy business, I mean not to reproach again.  Your punishment has been greater than your offence.  It is to you, madam, I must address myself, who, by not believing in the words of truth, have caused me to slay my dearest friend and brother, and, after having unwittingly wounded him in the tenderest point, add to the injury by taking away his life.  Are you yet satisfied, madam?  Are you satisfied with having embittered my days by your injustice and unworthy suspicions—­by having reduced your unfortunate, yet not guilty sister, to the state of an unhappy, lonely woman, now suing in vain for pardon at your feet; by having been the occasion of the death of your brother by marriage—­her husband and my friend?  Say, madam, are you yet satisfied, or will you have more victims to your unbelief?”

Emilia answered not, but continued with her face averted.

“Be it so, then, madam;” replied Don Perez; and, before any one was aware of his intention, he drew his sword, and fell upon it.  “Now, Emilia, let the sacrifice of my life be a proof to you of my sincerity.  As I hope for pardon, I have told the truth;” and Don Perez fell on his back, and was dead.